New muse, less than desired.

[talkyoudead]

Oh, a journal to myself and Dear Mun, even--you do realize you're rapidly losing any credibility in insisting you don't want me here, don't you? I imagine you think you're terribly clever, giving me this journal name. I assure you I am no more a fool than I have wings, though I expect you've succeeded in your goal of inventing a name that no one but the two of us will ever understand.

You still have reservations. Not sure whether you want to post this? You're only pretending to watch the television; in truth, you stopped typing in favor of picking at your fingernails. It's a rather obvious nervous habit. You'd do well to remedy that.

So you're nervous--why? Because you think you can't be me? You can't. I'm sure that's not surprising to you; you were hardly attempting to become a different person in the first place. All you're trying to do is produce a reasonable enough facsimile to convince the average roleplayer. Trust me, that's a far simpler task.

You're biting your lip. Replace one nervous habit with another, it doesn't make a difference. But you've gotten this far, which either means you're far more of a fool than I am, or you think you can pull it off.

Go ahead--impress me.

Comments

[omniamutantur]

And what impresses you, facsimile?

[talkyoudead]

That's for my mun to figure out.

[omniamutantur]

Then who is posing the riddle?

[talkyoudead]

Me, of course. Weren't you listening?

[omniamutantur]

Yet you would claim to be no more than a deceit.

[talkyoudead]

Oh, did I say that? Maybe I wasn't listening.

[1_truth]

If you're trying to make her less nervous that's not going to be very effective.

[talkyoudead]

Really? It seems to be working quite nicely.

[1_truth]

Does your mun work well under pressure then?

[talkyoudead]

For the most part. Until she has a breakdown, but there are other people in here who can deal with that.

[1_truth]

If you ask me, sometimes I think they're just asking for a breakdown.

So, does your mun actually care about mysteries or is just you she cares about?

[talkyoudead]

She likes unraveling things. I suppose that could be either.

[womanwhobeatyou]

Trying to goad the mundane into doing the impossible. You are bored.

[1_truth]

Well, that's better than the poor guys that get picked up just to be 'shipped' with someone else, I guess.

Mine's an actual mystery junkie, so I got lucky, I guess.

[omniamutantur]

Are facsimiles used to convince of the truth, then?

[221bblogger]

Sherlock. [Siiiigh.] I know you must be bored out of your skull, but let's refrain from being all you at your own mun.

[talkyoudead]

Usually not very convincingly.

[talkyoudead]

You're a detective, too, then.

[talkyoudead]

There aren't exactly a wealth of murders inside her skull, unfortunately.

[talkyoudead]

Really, John, what else do you expect me to be?

[221bblogger]

Have you tried not being you?

Oh, that's right, you have, and you ended up in a cell. Right, forget that idea, then. Just--try not to pick your mun apart before she does something miserable to you.

[talkyoudead]

Something miserable--like what, exactly?

[221bblogger]

Well, mine's got muses in her head that have been through pretty terrible, scarring-for-life ordeals. I just. I would like you to be careful with this one, Sherlock. This isn't one of your cases.

[talkyoudead]

I'm always careful.

[womanwhobeatyou]

The pitfalls of overspecialization. Trying to tease out a murderer by being sociable now?

[talkyoudead]

It's worth a try.

[womanwhobeatyou]

I'd suggest a smile.

[221bblogger]

I mean it. The last thing we need is another...hound incident, only worse.

[1_truth]

Of course!

My mun nice enough to me in a game with a mystery setting. Was yours planning on putting you somewhere?

[talkyoudead]

Always worrying, I'm surprised you haven't developed ulcers by now.

[talkyoudead]

I can't just smile on command, it looks... strange.

[womanwhobeatyou]

Does it? You managed tears on command convincingly enough. [Okay that might be a lie]

[talkyoudead]

Unlikely, unless she decides she isn't terrified to have me interact with that many strangers.

That game you're in--what is it?

[1_truth]

Mayfield. It's a small town in the States set in the fifties-at least at first appearance that's what it is.

[talkyoudead]

"At first appearance"?

[talkyoudead]

Yes, I'm sure that's why you were so quick to call my bluff.

[womanwhobeatyou]

Well, your pride needed stinging.

[1_truth]

You know that things are never quite what they seem, right? Well that's basically what I mean. The stereo-typical 1950's residents are known as drones aren't really alive and talk in an eerily empty voice.

Death isn't permanent [ Which is insulting for a detective ] and the milkman is deranged and regularly poisons the supply of milk.